


Prompt 15: Lullaby and Goodnight

by irrationalgame



Series: Thommy Comfortween Prompts [15]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Astraphobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, It’s kind of pre-Thommy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrationalgame/pseuds/irrationalgame
Summary: Comfortween prompts from https://hurtcomfortex.dreamwidth.org/22946.html15. Lullaby and GoodnightComforting during insomnia, helping someone relax and get to sleep. Alternatively needing to keep someone awake.Jimmy can’t sleep and the storm battering the Abbey is making him nervous. He seeks solace in the bedroom of a certain under-butler.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Series: Thommy Comfortween Prompts [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949317
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	Prompt 15: Lullaby and Goodnight

Jimmy huffed and rolled over _again_ , his pillow too lumpy, his mattress too hard, his blanket too thin.

Outside a storm was thrashing the Abbey with rain, the wind whistling through the stone pinnacles on the roof, thunder cracking overhead and the accompanying lightning illuminating Jimmy’s room in brilliant flashes of white and gold.

There had been some talk of it being the storm of the century, or a least one for the record books. Jimmy couldn’t recall a worse storm in his lifetime at any rate.

And perhaps it was just because his room was so high up, peeking out of a dormer window in the roof, but felt as small and exposed as he would if he were caught right in the middle of it, even though he was tucked, safe and dry, in his bed. He felt a bit like Dorothy at the beginning of _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_ and was almost waiting for the Abbey to be whisked up into a tornado and dumped in some magical, far off land.

It was all keeping him from sleep and he’d likely not get _any_ rest if it continued all night.

Jimmy’s mind wandered to Thomas - he was likely asleep in his room at the end of the hall, as unperturbed by the storm as he was most things, his hair blacker than an abyss in the dark of night, his grey eyes hidden by his lids, his face soft in sleep. He was probably wearing those plaid pyjamas Jimmy sometimes caught a glimpse of first thing in the morning or last thing at night. And nothing else.

Jimmy wriggled around and tried to force his mind to change the subject for once. Letting himself think about Thomas too much always led to inappropriate thoughts, which inevitably led to inappropriate actions. Which segued into guilt and a sinking feeling that perhaps he wasn’t the _ladies_ man he’d always claimed to be.

Thomas had started it all though, kissing him once in the night and then never laying another hand on him again, except to push him away from the thugs who intended to beat and rob him. They’d beaten and robbed Thomas in his stead and Jimmy couldn’t keep pretending to hate the under-butler anymore, appearances be damned. And then he’d actually gotten to know Thomas and realised just how similar they were. And how much he enjoyed the other man’s company.   
  


Jimmy had never been one to make real friends - it had always been _Jimmy Contra Mundi._ But Thomas was a true friend now, which made the inappropriate things Jimmy thought and did even _more_ inappropriate.

Jimmy huffed - he was doing an awful job of thinking about something else.

His room was lit as bright as daylight by a flash of lightning and a particularly violent clap of thunder roared overhead - it was so loud it rattled the windows in their frames. Jimmy pulled his blanket up over his head in a vain effort to muffle the sounds of the storm. Barely a minute later there was another flash, an immediate boom of thunder, and a deafening bang like an explosion that made the whole building shake.

Jimmy reached for his lamp but it was dead - of course, the electrics must’ve been knocked out too. He padded across the room in the dark to the window - one of the trees at the front of the Abbey had been struck and it had split it in two down the centre of its trunk, branches and splinters of wood sent off in all directions. The remainder of the tree glowed red and it took Jimmy a moment to realise it was on fire, but the rain was so heavy that it only burned for a moment before it was put out.

That had been too close for comfort - what if the next bolt hit the Abbey itself?

Afraid, the footman tiptoed out into the corridor - silence, save for the storm. If there was anyone else awake then they were keeping it to themselves. He made his way to Thomas’s room and his hand was on the doorknob before he let himself think about what he was doing. He expected to find Thomas asleep, but the under-butler was sitting up in bed, reading, with a couple of candles casting their flickering glow over the room. He started when Jimmy closed the door with a click.

“Jimmy?” he said, snapping his book shut, “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“Can’t sleep,” Jimmy said, “the storm is keeping me up and lightning just bloody exploded a tree out the front.”

“Blimey,” Thomas said, “hope it don’t hit us next. Imagine the mess we’d have to sort out.”

“You’re not asleep either,” Jimmy pointed out.

“Observant.”

“The storm?”

Thomas nodded; “Never used to bother me before the war but after...” he trailed off.

“Shite, didn’t know,” Jimmy replied, then said; “can I stay here for a bit?”

Thomas shrugged. “You’re not bothering me if you do - not like I’ll be going to sleep anytime soon.”

“Don’t know how the others are sleeping through it,” Jimmy said, pulling a chair up beside the bed so he could rest his feet on Thomas’s mattress.

Thomas lit a cigarette and threw the pack to Jimmy. “They’re probably awake, they just haven’t felt the urge to creep into my room because of it.”

Jimmy smirked and said; “Would take a bit more than a thunderstorm to make Carson or Alfred creep in here in the middle of the night.”

Thomas pulled a disgusted face. “Thank goodness. _That’s_ the stuff nightmares are made of.”

They smoked and played cards for a bit, then when Jimmy got too tired to keep playing, Thomas read from of _This Side of Paradise_ until the footman was yawning and struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Go to bed Jimmy,” Thomas said, putting out his cigarette. The storm raged on outside; there would be a flood if it didn’t stop soon.

“I don’t,” Jimmy looked away, embarrassed, “I don’t want to go back to my room.”

“Why?”

“The storm...”

“You’re safe.”

“You don’t like it either,” Jimmy accused, red-faced.

“No, I don’t, but I’m not the one about to fall asleep in someone else’s chair.”

Jimmy pouted, not wanting to leave but also not wanting to ask to stay.

Thomas sighed; “Jimmy, do you want to sleep in my chair?”

Jimmy nodded churlishly.

“I’ll get you a blanket,” Thomas said. He pulled a pillow and a spare blanket from his wardrobe and unceremoniously dumped them on Jimmy’s lap. “I’m not tucking you in.”

Jimmy pulled a face but squashed the pillow behind his head and brought his knees up under the blanket. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but every time he got close to dropping off something disturbed him: the storm, Thomas turning a page, a crick in his neck, his foot falling asleep from being trapped awkwardly under him.

“Jimmy,” Thomas said eventually, his eyes never leaving his book, “what’s the matter now?”

“I’m uncomfortable.”

“That’s because you’re trying to sleep in a chair. You’ve got a perfectly comfortable bed just down the corridor,” Thomas replied, still reading.

Jimmy studied the raindrops hitting the skylight above his head. “I’m...afraid,” he admitted, his voice small.

Thomas closed his book. “Well, what can I do to help?” he said.

Jimmy thought for a moment then said; “Can I get in your bed? I’ll sleep with me head at the other end.”

“In my bed,” Thomas said, “with _me_?”

“No funny business,” Jimmy said, pointing a finger at Thomas, “just sleep. I’m knackered.”

“And you think you’ll be able to get to sleep sharing a bed with me?”

Jimmy nodded.

Thomas frowned, unconvinced.

“Thomas,” Jimmy said, “ _please_.” He could pinpoint the moment when Thomas gave in by the way his features softened.

“Alright, fine,” Thomas relented. “But I’ll set the alarm for early. You don’t want to bump into Carson in the corridor and have to explain where you’ve been sleeping.”

Jimmy climbed into Thomas’s bed, his pillow at the foot end. It was too short and too narrow to be comfortable - his feet were tucked under Thomas’s pillow - but it was still better than the chair.

Jimmy closed his eyes and tried to sleep. After a few minutes Thomas blew out the candles and Jimmy felt him wriggling around, trying to get comfy. It was such a small bed that parts of them had to be touching out of necessity, even when they were both on their sides.

A loud clap of thunder made Jimmy jump and he kicked Thomas in the head.

“Bloody hell Jimmy.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Jimmy rolled over, changed his mind and rolled back, nearly pushing Thomas out of the bed.

“Sorry,” he said. Thomas just harrumphed in response.

Jimmy tugged at the blankets - his knees were sticking out. Thomas tugged back. Jimmy yanked harder, pulling the covers all the way up to his chin. Thomas pulled them down again. Jimmy snatched the covers back with such force that he nearly toppled out of the cot himself.

“Jimmy!” Thomas hissed, “This isn’t working.”

Jimmy sat up. “You’re right.” He disappeared under the blankets, crawled up the bed and popped out at the top, his face inches from Thomas’s.

Thomas gave a long-suffering sigh. “And this is better _how_?”

“Shut up will you,” Jimmy said. He turned onto his other side, so he was facing away from Thomas and snuggled in until his back was pressed flush against Thomas’s chest. He grabbed Thomas’s arm and wrapped it around his middle. “Not a word. No funny business. Sleep.”

Jimmy could feel how tense Thomas was from the way he was holding his body as still as possible. Even his breathing sounded laboured.

“Thomas,” Jimmy said, “it’s alright. Relax.”

“I’m trying,” Thomas replied. Jimmy could feel his breath on the back of his neck.

Jimmy ran his thumb over the back of Thomas’s hand, tracing a circle over his skin. “I’ve always been afraid of thunderstorms, since I was a lad. When I was really scared me mum used to let me get in bed with her and she’d sing me to sleep.”

“I draw the line at lullabies,” Thomas said.

Jimmy smiled and softly sang;

_“My Bonnie lies over the ocean_   
_My Bonnie lies over the sea_   
_My Bonnie lies over the ocean_   
_Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me..._   
  
_Bring back, bring back_   
_Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me, to me_   
_Bring back, bring back_   
_Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me.”_

By the time he’d finished the second verse he could tell Thomas had fallen asleep by the way his breathing had evened out and his arm had gone slack over Jimmy’s waist.

“Night Thomas,” Jimmy said, and, safe in Thomas’s arms, he was finally able to fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Jimmy sings is the folk/traditional song My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean. Uninteresting fact - my Granny used to sing it to me when I was scared/sick as a kid and now I sing it to my kid. Aww.


End file.
